Time On You
by Genstarsmallpot92
Summary: Sherlock opened both eyes now, and considered the woman in front of him, his sole contact for the past year and a half, who anchored him back to this world, whose messages he had saved and read when abroad and alone on his phone.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: My muse is inspired this week it seems. **_

* * *

It's been seven months since she last saw him.

The more time that goes by the more skittish she becomes whenever she's out and about on the busy London streets, it seems an all to often occurrence that a curly black mop of hair is enough to make her stop in her tracks, mentally she chides herself whenever this happens, a side glance at their profile is enough to make her continue on, she see's him everywhere.

It takes a little longer for her heart to calm itself back down.

Molly knows that she shouldn't really be worried, Sherlock was a grown man after all and she knows, fully capable of looking after himself. The little snippets of texts had told her that.

Or the very few times that he had actually somehow made his own way into her flat after fending of Moriarty's men in the very early hours of the morning, his hair the only element that wasn't disguised.

His clothes were more often than not worn, sometimes torn to, and was also always devoid of the usual scarf and Belstaff coat.

Each time Molly would be straight onto the task at hand, bustling around her quiet flat and obtaining food and her first aid kit. More often than not Sherlock would immediately drop onto her small sofa sagging into it as he mumbled what had happened and what he needed patching up. Molly would always come back rushing into her living room, first aid kit in hand and sit down next to him, although he always protested that he would do it himself, Molly quickly dismissed this and did it herself fawning over him.

Molly would show some kindness to this man in front of her.

Sherlock would mostly remain silent as Molly attended to him, and Molly didn't press him for questions or for answers. It was better off for both of them. It was rare for Sherlock to stay for more than a few hours, but Molly would at least make him eat before he left and in more recent times, Sherlock no longer argued with this. Food was scarce while trying to hunt down Moriaty's network.

After eating, Sherlock would always be on his way. They both seemed to have their own farewell ritual when it came to each other. Sherlock would make his way to the door, Molly following closely behind and then Sherlock would turn at the last minute expecting Molly to say something, She always did, something sentimental.

_Be safe._

Sherlock would nod and linger before finally walking off, taking the words to his _'I've been reliably informed that I don't have one' _heart.

* * *

Molly continued on with her life.

Well as much as she could continue on with her life while sometimes harboring a supposed dead man…and keeping the secret.

As much as it was sometimes a burden, especially when it came to seeing John and Mrs. Hudson and especially Lestrade, now that he had been reinstated to his former position, he was the person she saw the most as he came into the morgue on occasion on business. He'd mentioned Sherlock once a month ago while reminiscing about an old case, having realized what he had said, Lestrade cleared his throat and resumed talking about the task at hand.

Molly didn't miss the slight pained expression on his face.

Molly would sometimes go weeks or even months on end before getting a text message from Sherlock, she relished the words that appeared on her screen, well dependant on what they were.

But after the initial relief subsided, an ache in her chest would slowly but surly rear itself up.

Sherlock always went out of his way to text Molly when it was night, the thought alone made Molly sit up in bed for a while, knowing that he might be sleeping in an alleyway for all she was aware. Molly would try and start a conversation with him especially when she would look out of her window and see how downcast the weather was, she wondered if that was what it looked like to, wherever he was.

Sometimes he would never reply, but in those moments panic would seem to take hold of Molly, what if he had lost it? Run out of credit? How would she know that he was alright, and not lying in a ditch somewhere.

She would of chided herself for getting out of her bed right then and there had it not been for the fact that she was padding away over to her wardrobe and reached up to grab a box on the top shelf.

She placed it down on the floor and pulled out the contents…a blue scarf and a Belstaff coat.

She couldn't help the tear that fell when she closed her eyes tightly and bought the scarf up to her nose.

* * *

It was a week later when Molly was about to head to bed when the tri tone of her mobile caught her of guard. After not hearing from Sherlock in the last five weeks Molly practically ran into her living room to where her phone was being charged (she made it a rule to never let her phone die).

She let out a shaky breath as she read the text in front of her, it was Sherlock.

_I am well, arrive shortly. S_

Molly did not need to reply, she knew that when Sherlock would put _arrive shortly, _he would be there within fifteen minutes at most.

Today however was a record, less than eight minutes and there was a slight knock on her door. Molly felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, this was the first time she had actually had to open up the door for him. She padded quickly over to her door and opened it as quickly as she could.

She felt her heart both drop and then soar at the sight of the man on the other side of the door, he was hunched over slightly grabbing at his side and panting slightly, probably because of why he was holding his side and having to climb up a flight of stairs.

Molly quickly grabbed him by the elbow and ushered him inside, and Sherlock threw his arm around her shoulder for leverage, grunting slightly as she slowly lowered him onto the sofa.

Molly eyed his stomach, must be his ribs. "What happened?"

Sherlock moved his hand away from his side. "Got into a scuffle four days ago. Three on one."

Molly sighed at this, and helped him take his jacket off, careful not to jostle him to much. "That wasn't very clever."

Sherlock smirked slightly. "Perhaps not. But I got out of it, more or less. You should see the other men."

Molly did not laugh at this, and instead stood up from of the sofa, standing in front of him for a second as she looked at him, he looked a little worse for wear, a little thinner, curls slightly longer, but alive.

"I'm just glad you're okay." And then she was retrieving some co-codamol and a glass of water for him.

Sherlock watched her leave, keeping his eyes trained on her retreating form.

Molly returned quickly handing the co-codamol to Sherlock as she sat next to him and bought the glass up to his lips, and he drank eagerly.

His breath was labored from his fast drinking, "Thank you."

Molly smiled warmly at him and placed the drink down on her coffee table. "Are you hurt any where else?"

Sherlock watched her intently. "Thankfully no, just a few scratches here and there, but nothing major."

He saw the relief on her face, glad that it wasn't the usual pained expression whenever he came back bloody and broken.

He had kept _safe._

Molly pulled some balm out of her bag and unscrewed the lid. "Good, but I think I should put some balm on that bruise (she gestured to his ribs) don't worry it's unscented." she added as an afterthought.

Sherlock couldn't argue at this, the faster he healed the better. He tugged at the buttons of his shirt and Molly helped him pull it off his shoulders and he sat back into the sofa as Molly stood up and moved herself so that she was kneeling between his legs on the floor and scooped at some of the balm warming it with her hands. Sherlock saw her hesitate slightly before him and then her hand was gently on his stomach, rubbing the balm carefully over the bruising.

Sherlock concentrated on the somewhat gentle pressure of Molly's hand, hissing slightly when she accidentally pressed on a tender part of the bruise.

"oh, sorry!" Molly gaped, and pulled her hand away, but Sherlock quickly grabbed her wrist gently and guided it back down to the bruise.

"No, it's okay, just lightly run your hand over the tender areas."

Molly concentrated, but the more she concentrated the more she was aware of how she was touching Sherlock, she couldn't help the slight blush that appeared on her cheeks and hoped the dim lighting would cover it up, but this was Sherlock she was talking about. However when she dared to look up Sherlock was resting his head back on the back of the chair, eyes closed.

Was he asleep? Molly was quiet as she started dabbing a cotton ball to the slight scrapes on his chest, she just needed an excuse to touch him, he was here now God knows when she will see him again.

Sherlock arched an eyebrow at this. "I didn't realize I had so many scratches down there, Molly?"

Molly stopped immediately at the teasing tone in Sherlock's voice. Great. "just a little."

Molly slowly got up off the floor and Sherlock opened an eye to look at her. "I'll leave you to get some rest then, I'll fetch you some blankets if you like?"

Sherlock opened both eyes now, and considered the woman in front of him, his sole contact for the past year and a half, who anchored him back to this world, whose messages he had saved and read when abroad and alone on his phone. _Sentiment. _

Molly wasn't sure if she should be scared at Sherlock's uncharacteristic staring, and was about to speak further, oh god not nervous rambling. But Sherlock beat her to it, and was grabbing her hand, his thumb smoothing over the soft skin of her hand.

"I don't mind sleeping on here, my body requires some rest, but I…also wouldn't mind if you would stay and lie with me."

Molly looked down at Sherlock, she knew that look well, _he needed her. _

So who was she to stop now?


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: I'm not quite sure how I feel about this chapter, but you were all so lovely and thought that I would offer up another. :-)**__**  
**_

* * *

Molly stirred at the soft click of her front door closing and the sight of her key appearing through her letterbox to fall on the floor. Well that was considerate of him. The couch was still warm from where Sherlock had just got up and left, although she did wish that he had awoken her. To send him on his way, wish him well.

She remembered last night, how Sherlock's arms had tentatively but surly wound around her as he slept deeply and all the tension leave his body as he settled against her, remembered the gentle thrum of his heartbeat before finally drifting off to sleep herself.

It was only when the sofa was devoid of what was left of his warmth, that Molly attempted to get up.

* * *

It's a Thursday when a black car pulls up beside her on her way home from work.

She was warned about strange cars pulling up alongside the road by Sherlock.

Molly baulks when the window winds down to reveal Mycroft Holmes peering up at her, his face schooled into a pleasant smile.

"I would suggest you get in the car Miss Hooper, we have matters to discuss."

Molly eyes the man in the sleek black car before he opens the door for her and scoots over to make space, before she gets in herself.

"By matters, you mean Sherlock?"

Mycroft fidgeted slightly with the umbrella he's holding in his grip. "How astute. As you are aware of Sherlock's situation I thought it best to inform you that he contacted me just this morning relaying the fact that he is almost done tracking down all of Moriaty's men , it's a pity that he will not except further help from me."

Molly swayed slightly with the car, processing what Mycroft had just said. "What do you mean he won't except further help?"

Mycroft glanced at Molly. " He may not want my help, out of stubbornness more than anything, but I have not been idle, Miss Hooper."

Molly's interest piked. "Oh?"

"When you were acquainted with Jim Moriarty, did he ever take you to The Fox Poker Club?"

Molly squirms at the mention of Moriarty's name, but pushes her discomfort aside as she thinks back. "Only the once, a while back."

Mycroft's attention is now on his phone. "Well then, Miss Hooper. I think it's high time that my brother comes home."

* * *

Molly's thankful for the fact that Mycroft actually gave her a lift back to her flat, because all she wants to do now is revel in the thought that Sherlock will have to come back, she's not quite sure as to the reason, as Mycroft never actually told her but it must have been important enough for Sherlock to come back as soon as possible.

* * *

It's when bumping into Mrs. Hudson that Molly is informed of John's current gambling problem.

Molly aches as she ushers a teary Mrs. Hudson into a nearby café, ordering them both a much needed cup of tea as Mrs. Hudson sniffles into her hanky. "Oh, I'm just being silly".

Molly reaches out and lays her hand over the woman's. " No you're not, it's understandable. At least I know why John's not been taking me up on any of my offers to meet up with me for a while now."

Mrs. Hudson shakes her head. " I don't know what to do, the poor love's been at it for almost a year now. I hardly see him at the flat. It's like he can't stand being there since…well."

Molly's eyes are downcast, but she gives Mrs. Hudson's hand a comforting squeeze. "I know. Maybe I should talk to him, and I won't take no for an answer."

The older woman pats Molly's hand, she always did like her.

* * *

Molly attempts to ring John the next day. Only for it to go straight to his voice mail.

It's her day off so she has a full day of trying to get a hold of him, she even texts Lestrade to see if he could get John to call her back. But to no avail.

It's only when she's getting ready for bed that her phone buzzes on her night stand she actually thinks that it'll be Sherlock for a second, she's slightly disappointed for a moment, but it's quickly replaced with relief when she finds it's from John.

Looks like her persistence has payed off.

* * *

Molly waits for another hour before John turn's up at her small flat. The knock is tentative to say the least as she moves to open up the door for him, and is greeted by a very dishevelled looking John Watson.

He manages a smile as Molly ushers him in, and it takes all of Molly's will power not to hen and haw over him in his sorry state, when he really needn't not be.

She quickly bustles around her kitchen making a pot of tea for the both of them as she tries to tamper down the sadness that rises whenever she see's John, especially now.

Molly steadies herself and grabs the tray of tea and scones (for if he was feeling peckish) and places it on her small coffee table in front of him, as she takes in the man in front of her.

John smiles at her and jokingly questions Molly if she had someone stored up in her small flat after hearing a noise from her bedroom while she was making their cuppers. Molly put it down to Toby, seeing as she couldn't see him in the room.

"Thanks for this, and sorry I was a bit late. Something came up".

Molly picked up her pot of tea. "Important?"

John blew on the steaming hot liquid. "Something like that."

Molly looked up at John, and blew out a breath. "I spoke to Mrs. Hudson, John "

John set down his mug. "What did she have to say?"

Molly fidgeted with the handle of her cup slightly, thinking of the best way to go about this. "She's concerned about you."

John looked slightly guilty at this. "She told you then?"

Molly took another sip of her drink. "Yes she did, but you can understand why. I'm worried to."

John face turns slightly stern. " It helps me to cope."

Molly sets down her mug and wishes not for the first time that all this damned business had never happened, if not just for Sherlock's sake, but for John's.

"There are other ways for you to cope, John."

John smiles bitterly. " Not really. Not any more."

John stands up abruptly and strides towards the door, his hands curling and unfurling along the way.

Molly stands up as well, she has to say something, anything to ease this man. "He really did care for you, you know."

This wasn't the time to ignore the elephant in the room.

John turned back towards Molly, eyes slightly glassy and nods at Molly before walking back over to her front door, but she notices how he stops short, head bowed as he turns to her as if he's thought of something.

"Would you say that you loved him?"

Molly gulped slightly. "Yes, I do."

John stares at her for what seems like an age. "Do you mean that you are still in love with him?"

"I mean that I will always be."

* * *

Molly watches John walk down the side walk to get a taxi after having spent the last few hours talking. Well John was doing the most talking, but she wanted him to, he needed to after all and not to a shrink.

She was however thankful that he did not bring up Sherlock again.

The time for that would come soon enough, hopefully.

Molly closed the curtains after John disappeared from view and remembered that Toby would want some food but contrary to what she had said to John earlier she had found said cat sleeping on one of her arm chairs, that was not in view of both her or John's eyes, had he been there the whole time?

Molly stroked a hand over Toby, and then walked over to her bedroom door, pushing it open slowly.

Only to find Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

"Sherlock? Have you been here the whole time?" Molly bristled slightly, thinking of John.

Sherlock hopped off from where he had been sitting on her bed, and Molly was suddenly acutely aware that he was in fact here again, and all she wanted to do was throw her arms around him.

"John was here."

Molly noted the slight pain in his voice, _oh so he had been here. Most probably heard everything._

"Yes…and now so are you."

Sherlock walked further towards Molly until he was right in front of her, his eyes peering knowingly into hers, Molly had to say it.

"Sherlock, what I said-"

Sherlock lifted a hand to gently cup her face. "You meant it."

Molly kissed his palm, and nodded. "I meant it."


End file.
